The fact that he was all I could think about these past few days was killing me. He had never lingered on my mind as long as he had since that night. And although I tried to deny it, deep down, I knew this newfound obsession with him had everything to do with the kiss on the altar.
I remembered the shivers that ran down my spine the second his lips rested on mine. I didn’t expect to feel the way I did during and after the kiss, a spark of electricity that ignited a flame within me.
The warmth of his touch sent waves of pleasure I hadn’t anticipated. That was the genesis of this madness—this insatiable hunger that left me wanting more.
At this point, my name was added to the short list of people I despised. There was enough hatred to go around between my father, my jailer, and myself because each of us had a role to play in my current misery.
Even though I only found out a day before the wedding that his name was Roman Tarasov, in my head, I still referred to him as my jailer. That’s what he was anyway.
A knock on the door snapped me back to reality, causing my body to flinch at the sudden sound. My head turned toward the entrance where the door slowly creaked open, revealing the maid, Nikki.
“Good evening, Mrs. Tarasov,” she greeted me, her head lowered, voice low and polite.
Nikki and Natasha used to be much more comfortable around me—free and happy. But ever since the wedding, their attitude toward me had changed. They were no longer as free as they used to be and could barely even look me in the eyes. It was almost as if they were treating me with the same respect and reverence as Roman Tarasov.
I didn’t like that.
I rose to my feet, facing her. “Nikki, quit the formalities. I’m still me, okay?”
“You’re the boss’s wife now, ma’am,” she answered. “There are boundaries that I must not cross.”
Nikki and Natasha were the closest thing I had to real friends, and it broke my heart to realize I was already losing them.
“Mr. Tarasov is asking to see you in his office,” she said, her head still bowed.
My heart skipped a beat, a sudden chill sprinting down my spine. “Alright, thank you,” I answered. “I’ll be there in a while.”
She stole a glance at me, a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips before quietly exiting the room.
I heaved a heavy sigh, fingers combing through my hair. In my mind, I wondered why I was being summoned, but I couldn’t think of any tangible reason at the moment.
My pulse quickened as a crazy desire to look nice stirred up within me. I felt the need to double-check my appearanceto make sure I was at least presentable. I couldn’t explain this feeling, only that I had to make a few touches here and there.
Without thinking twice, I strolled across the master bedroom, the marble floor cool beneath my bare feet. I reached the vanity, picked up my perfume, and spritzed a little on my neck and wrists.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I realized my lips needed a bit more attention. So, I grabbed my lipstick from the table, leaned closer to the mirror, and then painted my mouth a muted rose.
A soft sigh escaped me as I straightened, fingers tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. I adjusted the rest to frame my heart-shaped face just right.
My oversized cotton sweater slid off one shoulder, revealing a strap of my bra, while my ripped jean shorts peeked beneath its hem. Causal yet teasing, a kind of silent seduction.
I took one last look at my reflection and then stepped out of the bedroom.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I headed to his office, wondering why I cared so much about how he would see me. Why was I secretly seeking his validation or approval? Why was it suddenly so important to look good and smell nice for him? Didn’t I hate his guts?
The closer I drew to his office, the more rapidly my heart raced. When I reached it, I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open without bothering to knock.
He was seated at his desk, speaking with two of his men and a young woman I didn’t recognize. They all stopped talking when I walked in, their heads turned in my direction.
After a moment of silence, he asked them to excuse us, and they all rose to their feet. The woman gathered the papers on his tables into a folder and followed the men out of the office.
I closed the door behind them and walked further in, holding his gaze as though I wasn’t struggling with the emotions swelling inside me.
He leaned back in his chair, his steel-blue eyes pinned on me, his jet-black hair catching the soft light. I’d always admired the faint traces of silver at the base of his hair, toward his temples; it added a touch of sophistication to his overall look.
As usual, he was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that clung to his body, accentuating the muscles rippling underneath. Something about the way he looked at me sent tremors down my core, and I couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of his physique.
His eyes roamed over my body as I approached his desk, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
